Chapter 17

Hades

I awoke a few days after rescuing Persephone early in the morning, hours earlier than was my habit. Sleep wouldn't come to me; I was too worried about her. It wasn't that I thought she would escape again, but what if she went wandering in some place that she shouldn't? Some place that was too dangerous for someone as inexperienced with violence as she was. As I said before, the Underworld was a dark, secretive place. One misstep could send someone falling eternally down a bottomless pit or into the den of a half-forgotten monster. I had told Aspasia to give Persephone room, but what if that meant that she was just unprotected?

Thoughts like these were the reason I woke so abruptly and was unable to fall back asleep.

Since I was awake so thoroughly, I decided there was no use staying in bed. I instead wandered outside my palace for a few hours. I settled into pacing back and forth at the edge of the cliff, my feet unerringly avoiding the empty space beyond, despite the near-complete darkness. The monotony and rhythm of walking calmed me and allowed my thoughts to drift away where they pleased.

I thought of Persephone and her persistent weakness. I wondered if it was all due to pining for the overworld and not eating. Some horrible ideas began forming in my mind, but I pushed them away. I didn't think I could live with myself if I was right. I thought of how close I had come to almost losing her.

I thought of my own promise to the Furies and had to admit to myself that I was...well, if not afraid, then at least apprehensive of what would happen to me.

I thought of the past. I thought of how I had never had the chance to be carefree, but was always thrown from one problem to another. My father, in order to save his own skin, threw all of his children into the pit of Taurus to prevent the prophecy of his doom from being fulfilled. It was almost poetic that he was now trapped there himself. I barely knew my father, but the horrors I remembered were as much as I wanted to know of him. Only Zeus had managed to escape Kronos's paranoid warth. Even at a young age, Zeus had been destined to have everyone love him most. Even our mother.

I thought of the Titan War. Times had been simpler then. There was a clear enemy, and I was allowed to unleash my full rage upon our forerunners. I had ripped those mighty beings to shreds with my bare hands, earning me fear from the rest of the gods. I still remembered being covered head to toe in ichor after one particular battle. I felt the bloodlust and triumph of victory and had turned to the rest of the gods, expecting them to return my jubilant grin, but they had only looked at me with undisguised horror.

I thought of the day that I realized that I was completely alone in the world, except for ghosts. These were the literal ghosts of the dead, as well as the figurative ghosts of the past.

I thought of meeting Persephone and how amazed I had been to feel that spark of connection once again. I had almost forgotten that it existed. Could I bear to lose that again?

I thought of my own useless existence before meeting Persephone, dragging on year after century after millennium. No. I couldn't go back to that.

I took step after step on that cliff side, teetering between stability of stone and a plunge into a void. The sounds that I could hear were my own footsteps and the occasional clattering of rocks as they broke away from under my feet and tumbled down the cliff. The torches that usually gave the Underworld its light slowly woke up, almost mimicking the sunrise. By their light, I could see just how precarious my footing was.

I stopped dead. Only one thought rolled through my mind. What is the point? What is the point? What is the point?

What is the point?